


The Trophy Room

by kjack89



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Duelling, Fights, Friendship, Gen, Gryffindor!Washington, Misunderstandings, Slytherin!Hamilton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 22:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6396214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hamilton meets Washington inside the Hogwarts' trophy room on two separate occasions that couldn't be more different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trophy Room

**Author's Note:**

> [bootsssss](https://tmblr.co/m6HilMyCJ3oKJUhOa6FKV4A)‘s incredible [Hamilton x HP art](http://bootsssss.tumblr.com/post/141808976564/i-was-inspired-by-kjack89s-post-about-sorting) inspired a conversation about Hamilton at Hogwarts that led to a lot of Washington-related feels and the next thing you know, my fingers were acting of their own accord and then this happened.
> 
> My first (and probably only) time writing an A.Ham fanfic, so, you know, be gentle, but feedback is always welcome and appreciated.
> 
> Usual disclaimer applies. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Alexander's eyes followed the tall Gryffindor prefect as he strode confidently through the greenhouse where the first year Slytherins and Ravenclaws were repotting Flitterblooms and he leaned over to ask the tall Ravenclaw student on his right, "Who's _that_?" **  
**

Lafayette glanced up, then frowned. "Is zis a joke?" he asked, his French accent more pronounced than usual, and Alexander shook his head. "Zat is George Washington. Sixth year. Zey are already saying he will be ze ‘ead Boy next year.” Lafayette looked suspiciously at Alexander. "'Ow do you not know zis? Everyone knows Washington."

But Alexander hadn't, just as he hadn't known so many things before starting at Hogwarts only a few weeks earlier. Of course, he had heard of Washington, as it would be hard not to have -- Washington was a prefect of almost mythical proportions, and Alexander thought he understood why as he watched the way the straight-backed Washington politely delivered a message to the Herbology professor.

The stories of Washington travelled far and wide, especially among the first years, who retold each story they heard in hushed, reverent tones — how Washington had defeated an entire army of Inferi, or dueled with a vampire last summer holiday. It didn’t matter if the stories weren’t true — the character of Washington was everything each bright-eyed first year wanted to be.

And Alexander had spent his first few weeks at Hogwarts realizing that what he most wanted, as a half-blood orphan with no known family, no distant relatives in the portraits that lined the walls, was for first years to one day whisper his name in those same hushed tones.

Alexander decided that he needed to learn as much as he could about George Washington.

Learning as much as he could led him to late one night, far past the time when he was supposed to have been back in his dormitory, where Alexander instead held his illuminated wand high, poring over the various awards, trophies, shields and other honors displayed throughout the room. He had been at this for some time, as the room seemed never ending, and he was tempted to call it quits when he paused, the light from his wand lighting up the very name he sought.

He stepped closer, but it was nothing more than a Medal for Magical Merit engraved with Washington’s name. It gave no description of what he had done to merit the medal, and Alexander sagged a little, disappointed.

He quickly straightened when he heard a voice ask loudly, “Who’s there?”, and his eyes widened into saucers as George Washington strode into the light cast by Alexander’s wand. Washington looked down on him, something almost imperious in his expression, but Alexander met his gaze steadily. “You’re a Slytherin first year, right?” Washington asked, thinking for a moment before adding, “Alexander Hamilton.”

Alexander lifted his chin slightly. “Yes, sir.”

Washington smiled slightly. “You’re not the first Slytherin I’ve caught wandering these hallways tonight. I just sent Aaron Burr back to your dormitory — I assume you know him?” Alexander nodded. “He had the grace to offer me some advice on how better to patrol the halls. But I assume you’re out of bed for a different reason.”

Guiltily, Alexander glanced over at the medal and Washington’s expression softened. “I didn’t get it for dueling with a troll, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he told Alexander.

“Vampire,” Alexander corrected, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“Is that what they’re saying now?” Washington sighed. “Well it was nothing that exciting, I promise.” Though Alexander nodded, he didn’t look convinced, and Washington chuckled. “I see you won’t be so easily deterred. Tell you what, let me escort you back toward your dormitory, and I’ll tell you about what actually happened.”

Alexander hesitated. “Is it still a good story?” he asked.

“Would I bother telling you if it wasn’t?” Washington countered, and when Alexander just shrugged, still suspicious, he laughed and clapped Alexander on the shoulder. “You know, you remind me a lot of myself when I was a first year. Which means maybe one day you’ll have a medal of your own in here. Speaking of, I did promise I would tell you about it…”

As Washington walked Alexander out of the trophy room, he launched into the story of how he earned his medal, but Alexander wasn’t listening, his mind firmly stuck on the moment when, Washington’s hand warm on his shoulder, he had said, _You remind me a lot of myself…_

Alexander didn’t think he would ever forget that moment. It was the first time since he had been at Hogwarts where he felt like he belonged.

* * *

One short year later, Alexander was discovered once again by Washington late at night in the trophy room, but this time, circumstances couldn’t have been more different. For one, he wasn’t alone, instead squared off with his best friend, a Hufflepuff named John Laurens, in a wizard duel against a burly seventh year Slytherin, Charles Lee, and another Slytherin, Evan Edwards.

For another, Washington looked particularly angry to see him there.

For the past year, Washington had taken Alexander under his wing, and if anyone found it odd that the Gryffindor hero would look after a Slytherin nobody, no one dared say it. And Alexander learned everything he could from Washington, including how to cultivate friendships across the different Houses. But where Washington was calm and controlled, often counseling Hamilton to leave petty grievances be, Alexander was impatient and hot-tempered.

Generally speaking, this didn’t test their friendship too much. Alexander relied on Laurens, and his other friends, Hercules Mulligan in Gryffindor and Lafayette in Ravenclaw, to fight the small battles throughout the school. He doubted there were any other students who were out of bed as often as them, and suspected Washington asked the other prefects to turn a bit of a blind eye to their antics.

But everything had changed when Washington was named Head Boy.

Despite the fact that Washington was clearly the most qualified for the position, Lee, a Slytherin prefect, had someone deluded himself into thinking he would get the position, and when he didn’t, he turned bitter, telling anyone who would listen, “Washington is not fit to be Head Boy at a Muggle college!”

And since the only people who would listen were mostly other Slytherins, Alexander had to listen day after day as Lee eviscerated his hero.

“If you had heard what he said about you—” Alexander started, looking plaintively at Washington, whose disapproval was already clear.

Washington shook his head, his expression stern. “Don’t do anything,” he ordered. “The only thing you’ll do is get yourself in trouble, and I won’t have that happening on my account.”

Any other command from Washington would have meant Alexander dropping it instantly. But this was more than just an attack on his hero’s character — it was an attack on his own legacy. If Washington could be attacked in this way, what did it say about he who tried to emulate him?

He said as much to Laurens, sparks flying from the end of his wand from how tightly he was gripping it. Laurens nodded slowly, his eyes dark. “Someone ought to hold Lee to his words,” he told Alexander, his voice low.

Alexander just shook his head sadly. “Washington told me drop it,” he muttered.

Laurens’ expression hardened, and he reached out to rest a hand lightly on Alexander’s arm. “Then I’ll do it,” he said, his voice low and clear.

Were Alexander perhaps a better friend, he would have stopped Laurens there, told him what insanity it was for a second year Hufflepuff to take on a seventh year, let alone one like Lee. Instead, Alexander slowly nodded, gripping Laurens’ hand in his and squeezing it.

Though Alexander was angry enough that he was tempted to resort to Muggle dueling, wizard duels followed a strict set of protocol, and so it was that after everyone else had gone to bed, Alexander, Laurens, Lee and Evans had crept through the empty hallways to the trophy room. Alexander prowled behind Laurens, his wand ready at his side, while across the room Evans stood with his arms crossed behind Lee.

Laurens met Alexander’s eyes, reaching out to grab his wrist, holding him still for a moment. “Alexander, you’re the closest friend I’ve got,” he told him quietly.

Alexander smiled grimly. “Laurens, do not throw away your shot.”

Laurens smiled as well, a glimpse of his usual open grin, before turning back to Lee, his expression hardening. The two bowed to each other before waving their wands, both shouting hexes simultaneously. The green jet from Lee’s wand went wide, smashing into a glass case, but Laurens’ shot was true, hitting Lee in the side.

As Lee doubled over, Alexander rushed forward, his expression filled with savage glee. “Lee, do you yield?” He demanded.

“Of course he yields,” Evans snapped, supporting Lee by his arms. “What did you hit him with?”

Laurens looked immensely satisfied. “Stinging Jinx.”

Alexander laughed and clapped Laurens on the shoulder, but before he could say anything, a booming voice demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”

Washington stood framed in the doorway, and Alexander beamed at him, ready to explain how he and Laurens had defended his honor, but he quailed under Washington’s glare. “Evans, take Lee to the hospital wing,” Washington ordered before adding to Lee, “Believe me, these two were _not_ acting on my behalf.”

As Evans led Lee away, Washington switched his glare to Alexander, not even looking at Laurens as he told him firmly, “John, go back to your dormitory. I need to have a word with Alexander.”

Laurens squeezed Alexander’s hand as he brushed past, but Alexander looked only at Washington, his chin raised defiantly. “What were you thinking?” Washington asked, his tone deathly quiet.

Alexander met his gaze coolly. “I was thinking that Lee and his friends had been talking behind your back for long enough. They were dragging your name through the mud!”

Washington shook his head, exasperated. “Do you honestly think anyone cares what Lee thinks or says about me? I’m Head Boy, I’ve won a Special Award for Services to the School — my name can take whatever Lee throws at me.”

“And what about my name?” Alexander demanded. “If you go down, I go down with you, or did you forget that?”

Shaking his head again, Washington sighed and gripped Alexander’s shoulder with one hand. His tone was gentler as he told him, “But I’m not going down, and the risk to you isn’t worth making myself look better.”

Shrugging nonchalantly, Alexander said, “I’m more than willing to risk it.”

“If anyone had found you besides me, you would have gotten yourself expelled!” Washington told him furiously, his grip on Alexander’s shoulder painfully tight. “Is risking expulsion really worth it? Your friends need you here, Alexander — _I_ need you here!”

Alexander jerked away. “I don’t care what you need,” he spat, too angry at having what should have been his crowning moment stolen from him like this to even think of what he was saying.

He didn’t see the momentary look of hurt that flashed across Washington’s face before replaced by resolve. “Go back to your dormitory, Alexander,” Washington commanded, his voice steely, and Hamilton flinched at the tone of voice, so often used to admonish rule-breaking students, but never used on him. “That’s an order.”

Alexander glared up at Washington, unshed tears glinting in his eyes, his hand clenched around his wand. Uncharacteristically for him, and a clear sign of just how hurt he was, he turned and left without saying another word, his small shoulders hunched with the weight of the legacy he simply thought he had been protecting.

 _He’s just like all the others_ , Alexander thought to himself as he finally crawled into his bed. _He thinks I can never make anything of myself because I’m a Slytherin and a half-blood. Well, I don’t care what he thinks! He’s just another stupid Gryffindor._

But as Alexander faded into an uneasy sleep and woke to find his pillow damp from tears, it seemed that he did care what Washington thought. It seemed that he cared quite a bit.


End file.
